THE CAT, 



grew bold and restless, wearying of her austere sur- 

 roundings, and escaping more than once to wander 

 over the neighbouring roofs. In the summer time 

 she was languid as a Creole, drowsing for hours on 

 the wall beneath the honeysuckle and roses, or sun- 

 ning herself on the white stones between the pots 

 of flowering cactus. Exquisitely and fastidiously 

 neat, sedate in manner, an aristocrat to the tips of 

 her little claws, she so hated other cats that the 

 advent of a visitor put all her serenity to flight. 

 In her own domain she suffered no intrusion. If 

 over the garden wall two little ears were raised, 

 two little eyes peeped furtively, if a rustling in the 

 branches, a trembling of the ivy leaves awakened 

 her suspicion, her fur bristled, and she sprang like 

 a young Fury at the stranger. Nothing could re- 

 strain her, and presently we, the listeners, would 

 hear the sound of scuffling, a fall, and lamentable 

 cries. On the whole, an independent and somewhat 

 lawless cat ; but affectionate and caressing, eager to 

 roam, and still more glad to return to us when her 

 vagabond excursions were over. 



Moumoutte Blanche was five years old, in the 

 flower of her beauty, and I had grown attached to 

 her as a member of the family and a household 

 god, when, from the Gulf of Pekin, three thousand 

 leagues away, there came one who was destined to 



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